Alternate Routes
by Viscount Anonymous
Summary: After being beaten in a spar with Sif, Loki returns to his room, dejected. Thankfully, his mother knows just what will lift his spirits. (Or, how Loki discovers magic and decides to learn it from his mother. Set during Loki and Thor's childhood.)


**AN: Hello, fellow fanfiction readers! This is my first Thor fic, so please tell me if you think any characters are OOC or anything. This takes place during Thor and Loki's childhood, so Loki is probably about 12 or 13, I would say. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Thor. **

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**Alternate Routes**

Panting, Loki slumped on the ground. He was hot, irritated, and tired. He tugged on the collar of his black and green leather tunic. He scowled as he heard the degrading laughter of Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg. Really, had they nothing better to do than watch him be floored by Sif?

Looking up at the fierce warrior maiden, he saw that she was looking down at him smugly. _Well, _he thought, _that's nothing new. _And it truly wasn't. Many times had he sparred with young Sif, and had he never won. She was simply stronger than him. Not for the first time, he cursed his small, wiry body. His always been his agility, both of his mind and body, but that did not amount to much if he did not have the strength to match it.

Loki let out a silent sigh, wishing that Thor was with him. But alas, his loud brother had been permitted to go hunting with several of Asgard's finest warriors. Loki hoped the blonde prince would be back soon, for the four warriors-in-training never dared to antagonize Loki in his presence.

Dropping his green eyes back to the floor, he pushed his weary body off of the floor. Rising to his full height, he glared at the three laughing fools. Unfortunately, that action only caused Sif to join the laughter that had risen in volume.

Snickering, Fandral mocked, "To be beaten so easily, Loki! It's shameful."

Volstagg suggested, a gleam in his eye, "Would you like to spar with me next? I'm sure with a lot more practice you could start to stand a chance against one of us.

Hogun jumped in. "They do say that practice makes perfect."

Loki kept his rising anger hidden under a carefully blank expression. "I'd have to decline your generous offer, Volstagg. I do have to work on my studies." Smirking, he jibed, "You see, I, unlike you, value intelligence. But that may only be because I have more of it."

Quickly, he turned around and headed for the exit. He did not wish to be made a fool of any longer. Opening the door of the training room, he walked swiftly down the long corridor. Sweat dripped from his brow and into his eye, and he brought up a thin hand to wipe it away.

Making a few turns, he made it to his room. He hurriedly pulled on the handle, allowing himself entrance to his chamber. He entered them and shut the door swiftly before heading to his drawers to get himself a change of clothes.

He grabbed clean clothes in his customary colors of green and black, and then threw them on his tidy bed. Stripping his sweaty garments off of his equally dirtied body, he dressed himself anew.

Loki looked sadly at a mirror on the far side of the room, sitting on his bed. Inspecting the visage reflected back at him, he could see why he was ridiculed by the others. His hair, dark and slicked back, was in deep contrast to the fair-haired Asgardians, save Sif. He was small, and though he was muscular, he was lean. His arms were not big and bulky like his brother's were. His skin was pale as alabaster, not having the tan so desired by the Aesir. He also valued brain over brawn, and used his brain to play small tricks on the others when the opportunity arose.

Puffing out his cheeks in a decidedly childish way, the young trickster told himself that he would brood no longer. It would change nothing, and he had studies to do- he had not been deceitful when he had given his reason for leaving Thor's friends.

He sprung up from his bed and made his way to the sturdy wooden desk in the corner of the room.

* * *

Queen Frigga walked with great poise out of the throne room. There had just been a meeting, comprising of the High Council, herself, and her husband. The Council had been alerted about a herd of bilgesnipe near a popular hunting ground, and the meeting had been to decide which warriors were to go dispose of the vile creatures. Thankfully, the beasts were not anywhere near where her eldest son had gone hunting.

Council members idly walked out behind her, but she ignored them, for she had a matter to attend to.

Her other son, Loki, had been scheduled for a spar with the young lady Sif, she knew. She had overheard as much when the two had had the conversation in which the matter arose within her earshot. Therefore, she knew the young troublemaker would be sulking in his room. This time, she was determined to lift his spirits. She thought that putting his natural talents to use would be just the thing to help.

But first, she had to make a stop at her bedchamber.

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Loki was so immersed in his schoolwork that he almost didn't notice the soft knock on the wooden door that guarded him from the rest of the palace.

"May I come in?" the warm, familiar voice of his mother inquired.

"Of course, Mother," he responded. He closed the great tome he had been reading out of as the door opened, revealing Frigga.

She also had a large book clasped in her hands. It looked well-used and old, as he could tell by the faded title and worn edges.

Frigga sat on the young prince's bed, beckoning toward her. Curious about the book she had brought with her, he quickly joined her.

"What book is that?" he asked eagerly. He loved reading, and always rejoiced when he was given a book he had never read before.

Frigga grinned at him. "I think you'll find great pleasure in this, little one," she said. "It is a book of magic!"

Loki's eyes went round. "Do you wish for me to learn it?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes, my son," Frigga answered. "You could wield it for combat if you wished." She looked at him, gauging his reaction.

Loki stiffened slightly, suddenly looking doubtful. Hesitating slightly, he said, "But… if it has anything to do with combat, I fear I will not do well."

The Queen smiled reassuringly. "Never fear, for you do not need physical strength to be a magician. It takes strength of mind, and the ability to be in tune with the body's natural energies. I believe that you possess both of these things, Loki."

Still, he looked unsure. "But I heard that magic was a woman's art," he said slowly.

"Listen, Loki," Frigga said. The intense tone of her voice startled him slightly, and he looked her in the eye. Holding his gaze, she continued, "Magic is commonly used by women, it is true. It is a great tool to be used in the house. But it can also be used in battle. Just think about the use of illusions on your enemies! Think of all the possibilities for deception and planning!" She looked at him imploringly. "Loki, we both know that you are not the deadliest warrior-in-training."

"I know," he said. He smiled suddenly. "But by using my mind and magic, I could become greater."

"Exactly," Frigga smiled at him. "Your intelligence and your words can make you a worthy warrior. Though, a change of weapon might help." She looked at her son, considering. "Swords and axes don't seem to be working for you. Maybe we can get you a set of knives, and try those out." She motioned to the book on her lap. "Come closer, my son, and let me tell you about the art of magic and sorcery."

Loki scooted closer, his young face betraying his excitement and curiosity. No longer would he be helpless against Sif or any of the other three who mocked him! A devilish grin lit up his face even further. Magic could also provide _many _more pranking possibilities.

Yes, this would be a fine art to practice.

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**AN: I hope you liked it! Please review, I'd really like to know what you thought. Pros? Cons? Constructive criticism would be appreciated but flames will be disregarded. Thanks for reading!**


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